


One Year Gone

by Medikitty



Series: I lost control again, What is love without pain? [1]
Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: Angst, Arthur is a sad outlaw, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, John is....John, M/M, Minor Violence, very little comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-23 20:05:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17086859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medikitty/pseuds/Medikitty
Summary: When John left, it couldn’t have been at a worse time.John left quietly when the world around him became too much to handle. The whole camp attempted to track him down, Arthur the most frantic. Every lead became a stale trail. Mary Linton not much later shattered Arthur, leaving the outlaw into a drunken stupor of desolation.He knew Mary was never going to be forever, their dances around each other, their on again and off agains would come to an end— but John. The younger cowboy was family, joined at the hip, those two were. Little Johnny Marston... Arthur can remember a time when John had just joined the gang. He was barely a teenager, just a kid. He’d follow Arthur around like a puppy, always wanting to join him in whatever he did. And then suddenly— gone. To say that Arthur was hurt would be an immense understatement. And now, after a whole year, that stupid boy was back.





	One Year Gone

**Author's Note:**

> The majority of my songs dedicated to these two are very sad and whats a better time to write within the story? Enjoy, leave comments! and here's some tissues~

  
  
Arthur was out taking bounty work when the missing cowboy returned.  Bounty work kept his mind busy, his temper at ease when he returned to camp from venting himself against the poor soul who the local Sheriffs wanted. It allowed him to leave home for weeks at a time and travel distances just in case— _just in case..._

 

When Arthur trotted up to camp he could sense it in the air, the entire atmosphere tensing. The air felt thick as he dismounted from the mare, removing her tack.  _Dutch much be stressing over something_ the outlaw chose to excuse it as and dismissed it. As he finished and sauntered into the camp, however, it was apparent all eyes were glancing at him indirectly. Something was off. Swanson took one look and began fumbling his flask open before stumbling away as fast as his drunken state allowed. 

  
  
It wasn't until there was low murmuring over at a table that caught the outlaw and he began to assume something was up. It was Hosea talking lowly, aged eyes glancing over at Arthur. 

Hosea and— and...  
  
  
**"** Y-You son of a bitch! Why!  Why I oughta— **"** Arthur snarled through gritted teeth, charging in the direction of the hushed commotion.  
  
  
**"** N-Now Arthur **"**  Hosea began, trying to stand in-between the burly outlaw and—  **"** John fucking Marston! **"**  Barked Arthur as he immediately lunged at the smaller man.  It was a swift brutal blow to the jaw as the cowboy was knocked out of his chair, his attacker quick to advance on him. The outlaw made swift work to pin him to the ground with his weight.   
  
  
John raised his arms in defense as Arthur grabbed at his shirt collar with a steel grip.  His other hand wound back ready to strike again.  The cowboy was too dumbstruck to speak, more fearful of making it out alive at this point.  He knew this was coming, knowing well Arthur was not going to be any sort of embrace.  It was a closed fist to the nose.  
  
  
**"** A whole goddamn year, Marston! **"**  Arthur bellowed, those usual calm sea green eyes were a blazing bright aquamarine as the table lanterns glow burned within them. The majority of the camp made themselves scarce, retreating to their tents or hiding in areas where they were still in earshot.   
  
  
Hosea was shouting something, but Arthur couldn't make out the words.  He didn't care.  All he wanted to do was beat the living daylight out of the man who consumed his every thought for nearly twelve whole months.  The man he worried over, he searched for... he pined for.   
  
  
**"** Boys!  BOYS!  Mr.Callender would you grab him?! **"**

_ Dutch. _  
  
The outlaw could feel himself slowly being pried away from the bloodied cowboy below him, those hazel eyes wide with blue flecks. He didn't fight back...not yet. Mac got Arthur up to his feet, pulling him away enough for Dutch to step in-between the feud. Dutch quickly dismissed Hosea, knowing that this was a feud that was not his specialty to handle. Especially when it came to these two.

 **"** Why in the hell is he here?! We have a damn code! **"**

Dutch remained calm, giving a lofty sigh to Arthur, pinching the bridge of his nose as his eyes screwed shut for a moment. 

 

 **"** Because you two fine boys have become my  **sons** , Arthur.  Now we had our own discussions this past wee- **"**

 

 **"** This damn idiot has been in camp a whole god damn week?! **"** Arthur interjected, exasperated pointing past Van Der Linde at John.  
  
He looked around bewildered at the few others that were in view, then  scoffed. A low dangerous chuckle of disbelief sounded as he shook his head. He needed to do something, needed to move.  **"** A'ght then. You seem to allow traitors back in with open arms, so what's next?! Welcoming an O'Driscoll into the family to now?! **"**  
  
Dutch's eyes shot open and glared, **"** Don't you start this now, Arthur Morgan. You two and Hosea are all I have left! I need you to stand with me not against me over this. We all know Marston has made plenty of stupid decisions, we all have in our lifetime! Now if you absolutely need to get it out, take it outside the camp! It is late. **"**  
  
Arthur was silent for a long time, the overwhelming emotions of anguish, anger and reluctantly disgust for the hint of relief hidden underneath his vexation towards the cowboy.

  
  
  
**"** Fine. Sure.  Come on Marston... let's go have a **chat**! **"**  
  
John looked at Dutch who simply waved him off before briskly leaving them, retreating to his tent for the night.  Reluctantly he trailed after Arthur like a scolded puppy, fully intimidated to what Arthur was going to do now that they weren't being refereed.  Before entering the woods, John looked back at the camp one more time in hope someone could yank him out of this.  However, the camp made quick work to appear empty, not even Uncle or Swanson were bumbling around.  
  
  
**"** Marston, get a  move on **"** voiced a growl from ahead of him.  He followed after with a slightly faster pace, his head hung low.   _He saw this outcome..._ _if he already predicted Arthur's reaction, Why come back?  What was he afraid to hear from the elder outlaw that had him following with his tail tucked between his legs? _  
  
  
Arthur was leaning against a tree not facing John when he finally caught up. The scent of a lit cigarette wafted in the light breeze that whistled through the trees. Swallowing hard, the cowboy tried to find what to say but every time he opened his mouth no words came out.

 **"** A damn year Marston... **"**  The gunslinger rumbled ominously.   **"**... Not a word.  Not a trace.  Only the stale stench of betrayal... **"**

 

One final smoky puff and the cigarette hit the ground, a boot quick to snuff it out as he whipped around quickly with a scowl engraved on his features. The full moon illuminated the forest, casting its light against the furious eyes, shades of turquoise glistening brightly— as if they were watery.  **"** Why you here John Marston? Huh? **"**  
  
His whole body went stiff as his eyes locked with Arthur's, the tips of his fingers trembling.  **"** I— Arthur...I fucked up alright? I-I don't know, I had to get away— **"**  

 

 **"** Get away?! **"** The elder mocked, spitting at the ground in insult.  **"** Get away from what? Your snowballin' mistakes? Your newfound responsibility? Your family! **"**

 

 **"** Abigail— She- you heard the rumo- **"**  

 

 **"** She ain't the family I'm talkin' about, boy. For all I care she ain't that regardless of your dumbass choices! **"**  
  
  
**"** What choice did I have, Morgan?! **"**  John snapped back defensively. John remained several yards away, hiding the fact that he was shaking. It was a tidal wave he could feel come over him. All the emotions, the thoughts, and memories he kept in denial. He knew why he came back,  _he was looking at him dead on_.  
  
  
**"** I don't— I don't know but it certainly as hell wasn't abandonin' us! **"**  Arthur hollered throwing his hands up in the air rounding on John. Every step forward Arthur made the cowboy stepped back until he staggered backward. His fall was caught by a large tree, the rough bark pressed against his back, his heart thundering in his ears.  
  
  
**"** You abandoned Dutch, Marston. He took you in! He took us all in, and this is how you repay him? We are his sons! For Christ's sake, you abandoned Hosea! **"** Arthur rambled, blinded with rage. With John trapped, the gunslinger easily caged him in, both large hands on each side of Johns' head. Arthur leaned down so his piercing blue-green eyes were level with the affected hazel-blue pair.  
  
  
There was a long silence. John didn't speak, knowing his friend, his partner, his— he needed to let everything out before he could think straight. The cowboy watched, studying the chiseled face before him. The sneer on his face defied the shimmers in his eyes that trailed down through small scars and stubble to end under his chin against the moonlit forest.   
  
Arthur gave a shuddering exhale, tearing his eyes away to look down, shadowing his face.  **"** You left  **me."**  
  
It felt like he had been shot. Each word puncturing his heart like physical bullets. John had to gasp for air, unconscious to the fact this whole time he was holding his breath. The cold, guarded outlaw was like a wild mustang fighting for its freedom. He gave his all but in the end, he broke. All composure coming undone, his forehead collapsed onto Johns' shoulder.  
  
Another stifling silence, only the trembling breaths from the gunslinger and that hushed gasps from the cowboy.  **"** A—Arthur. Dammit, Arthur Morgan. **"** John managed to say, his voice shaky as his emotions began to spill, pouring out the truth, his heart and not excuses to save his skin.  
  
  
**"** I came back because of you! You big fuckin' dumbass. **"**  
  
  
He raised his head back with a thud against the tree, his eyes screwing shut to fight of the stinging liquid at the corners of his eyes. Goddammit.  
  
  
**"** We— I was...Shit. We ain't just Dutch's family! You have that...what's her face— Miss Mary. I was doin' what I thought was right. I was trying to stop this; to stop us. **"**

  
John's voice was meek like he was begging Arthur not to make him say the silenced promises they made over time, excusing it as nothing more than a brothership. They knew that wasn't it.

  
Arthur lifted his head, at last, staring at John's murky blue pair of eyes. The cowboy looked like he was in agony, that confessing his sins were sentencing him to an even deeper level in hell than he was already in.

  
  
**"** You're a damn fool Marston **"** The gunslinger mumbled hoarsely followed by a harsh sniffle. Without hesitation, he closed the gap between them that had become too rigid for Arthur's liking.  He wasn't gentle as his lips crushed against John's cracked pair from when he took a swing to the face.  The taste of iron seeped into the cavern of his mouth as the fresh wound was torn open.  There were muffled whimpers and the feeling of hands clawing at his chest, making their way up to wind around his neck desperately.  
  
  
The kiss stung, it tortured, but it was deserved.  Every piercing bite, every lap of warm blood to the searing wound only made John cling to the larger man more.  He endured the pain the gunslinger inflicted on him with a purpose.  A fingerless gloved hand cupped a flushed cheek, calloused fingers tangling themselves in the strands of wavy umber colored hair.  A thumb traced along his cheekbone, almost delicately until a sharp pang shot through his bottom lip.  
  
  
John let out a harsh breath followed by a muffled mewl.  The gunslinger pushed off the tree with his idle hand that kept him steady, his eyes still filled to the brim with fire.  The cowboy could only watch Arthur in an odd fixation as crimson painted his lips as well as splotching his chin.  
  
  
Raising a hand, Arthur wiped his mouth leaving no trace of evidence as to what happened, his eyes piercing through Marston. 

 **"** Don't think this as any means of forgiveness, Marston. **"**  He threatened. Pulling out a cigarette lighting it, Arthur puffed smoke into the air feeling adrift. The storm had settled...for now, but it would be a long time before the beams of the sun broke through between them. John gave the smallest of smirks to the comment, ignoring the throbbing in his swollen lips. 

 

 **"** It wouldn't be like you if it was, Arthur. **"**  
  
  
His counterpart made a throaty noise in agreement with a stern nod. 

 

 **"** Come on, time to head back to camp.  I think I've made my peace for the night. **"**  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Possible Epilogue? Leave a comment to help me decide.


End file.
